Power Rangers: New Beginnings
by redranger09
Summary: Chosen by the mysterious Zordon and gifted with power coins and new identities as Power Rangers, five teenagers are jolted from their ordinary lives and thrust into the adventure of a lifetime. Every day brings new dangers as the Power Rangers must join together in a race against time to defeat the terrifying Rita Repulsa and save Angel Grove. A reimagining of the 2017 film.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

* * *

Resting his hands on the edge of the clean, white, bathroom sink, Jason Scott leaned closer to the mirror until his own reflection was only inches away. His dirty blonde hair was still disheveled and damp from his shower. A bluish-purple circle almost hid his puffy right eye, and a thin scarlet line split his skin just above his left eyebrow. Bruises and small cuts pockmarked his bare chest.

He managed a half smile, more of a grimace really. He had told the others he had taken worse beatings during sparing. A lot worse. Of course, he didn't spar in armor, but his boast wasn't even remotely true. Nothing he had been through even compared.

Part of him still couldn't believe what had happened. Not just yesterday, although the tension, adrenaline fueled desperation, and utter relief and elation he felt after Rita was defeated still dominated his thoughts, but all that had transpired in the last year. The Power Coins. Zordon. The others, Kimberly, Trini, Zach, and Billy. Power Rangers.

Angel Grove would never be the same, and neither would he.

Jason left the bathroom, walking gingerly on sore legs down the hallway and into his bedroom. Early morning sun soaked the room, brightening the navy-blue walls and glinting off the many karate trophies that seemed to be crammed on every flat surface in the room. He pulled a clean tshirt from his dresser drawer and sat down on the far side of his bed. With a grunt he fit his head and arms through and pulled the shirt on.

He exhaled and closed his eyes. For the first time in months he could relax. Rita was gone for good. He and his team had finally come to grips with what it meant to be Power Rangers.

 _"You have proved yourself as the Red Ranger, Jason."_

Zordon's commendation echoed in his mind. Jason Scott, Red Ranger. He had thought about taking the title as his fighting nickname, but the title would probably be too obvious, too cheesy, or both. And around town a lot of folks were already calling him "The Karate Kid."

He had grown so much as a person. He'd been pushed hard by Zordon to develop into a true leader of the Power Rangers. Rita had pushed him too in a manner of speaking.

Everyone had come together really. And now they'd won. A lot of cleanup was still necessary. Angel Grove had suffered underneath Rita, but nothing like last night's onslaught. Smoke from still burning fires hung heavy in the air over downtown. Buildings had been destroyed, whole streets ravaged. People had died. But this time victory had been complete.

He'd seen the morning news while eating breakfast. The mayor was already launching a rebuilding campaign, pushing the slogan "We shall endure." He also thanked the mysterious new heroes, the Power Rangers, now squarely in the public's eye.

His iPhone vibrated on the bed next to him.

It was Kim.

 _Hey :) whatcha doing?_

Kim. Another thing that had happened. He didn't know who had made the first move, but they were here now. He started to reply when another text came in.

Billy this time.

 _Hey man, you always this sore after you fight?_

He chuckled.

 _Cause I'm really sore._

Someone pushed open the half-closed door to his room and interrupted him.

"Jason?"

He recognized the voice.

"Hey, Dad," he said. He looked over his shoulder. "What's up?"

His father said nothing for a moment, studying Jason's face. He pushed his thumbs underneath the suspenders to his brown overalls, his normal fisherman's attire.

"That was you wasn't it?" his dad asked.

He gave his dad a puzzled expression, remembering what Zordon had said about never revealing his identity as a Power Ranger to anyone.

"Last night, at fourteenth and Brownlee," his dad started. "I saw that video of you pulling those people out of the rubble. Well, it looked like you."

"Oh," he relaxed but dropped his gaze to the floor. "Yeah, that was me. My friends, we were downtown, when, uh, all that craziness happened. Just doing what we could," he said. "Got rough," he added, gesturing to his face.

His dad smiled.

"I'm proud of you, that was very brave," his dad said. "You did the right thing."

"Thanks, dad."

"Oh, I wasn't going to tell your mother you went into a burning building."

He nodded. "Yeah, me neither."

His father turned to go but stopped to lean against the door frame.

"The docks are a mess. Me and some of the boys are headed down to clean up. You want to come?"

"Yeah, I'll be right down," he said, his mind traveling back to nearly twelve months ago.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 **One Year Ago**

* * *

"Sprawl!"

Jason dropped to the scarlet wrestling mat, driving his hips to the ground and keeping his arms out as if he was defending a takedown. An instant later he sprang back to his feet.

"Sprawl!"

He repeated the maneuver as quick as he could. A dozen other people sprawled around him, thudding into the mat.

"Shoot!" the instructor, a tall welterweight named Dheigo, called out.

He led with his left foot. Heel down, followed by the toes, left knee onto the ground, then slide the right foot through. Simulating wrapping up a double leg takedown, he finished and wiped sweat off his face with his forearm. His maroon compression shirt was drenched.

"All right, jog it out," the instructor said, nodding his head as if satisfied. "Two laps, two laps!"

He started running, joining the small circle of fellow fighters. A powerful rap beat from overhead speakers punctuated everyone's labored breathing. Jason glanced at the digital clock near the front of the gym.

6:19

"Once you're done, grab water real quick," Dheigo said, "Then get a partner and we're going live!"

With hands on hips, he walked to a set of black wooden cubbies. He waited for a moment for someone to move out of the way, then reached into his gym bag and fetched his water bottle. After gulping down some water, he took out his MMA gloves and slipped them on.

"Yo, Jason," a boy said behind him. "You want to partner?"

"Sure, Carlos," he answered, pulling the Velcro wraps tight around his wrists. He trained with Carlos, a sophomore and a year younger than him but about the same height, regularly. While he had a strong karate base, Carlos was more a traditional boxer. He also wrestled with higher level ground guys to improve his Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, but going against someone with equal to lesser ability on the ground gave him the chance to focus on his technique. Plus, Carlos had an opportunity to improve.

"Ok, everyone got a partner?" Dheigo asked. The head trainer motioned to a pair of fighters. "One of you switch with Jonny," he said. Two fighters swapped places with each other. "Good. I want to see how you do against someone taller," he said. "We'll switch back after the first round."

Everyone spread out across the mat.

"Just light punches, uh, easy sparring up top, nothing heavy," Dheigo instructed. "Then look for a takedown. Go hard once you get to ground."

"Can we throw kicks?" Jason asked.

Dheigo laughed. "You always want to throw kicks."

"Yeah, I know," he answered with a grin. "It's my thing."

"Go ahead," Dheigo said with a nod. "But everything to the body or legs, no head kicks."

"Right."

A five-minute timer beeped twice to signal the start of the round. Jason adjusted his mouth guard and touched gloves with Carlos.

He circled slowly to his right, away from Carlos's cross. His partner fought out of an orthodox position, but like most fighters Carlos switched stances often. Trying to get inside his reach would be difficult, but he knew he could control the range with kicks.

Carlos threw a jab, and he retreated to dodge the punch. He returned a jab but missed before backpedaling to avoid Carlos's counter. He tried to hold his ground for a moment to bait Carlos in. As soon as Carlos advanced, he fired a leg kick, slamming his shin into the outside of Carlos's thigh.

His opponent didn't slow and blasted him with a quick jab cross combination. He ducked away from the jab but couldn't raise his left hand fast enough and only partially blocked the second punch, which stung his cheek.

He regained his composure as Carlos pressed the advantage and kept him back with a push kick straight up the middle, catching Carlos in the abdomen. He feinted a jab, tried an overhand right followed by a front leg kick but missed. He slipped a flurry of return strikes and saw Carlos tense up.

He guessed a takedown attempt was coming.

Carlos lunged for him.

Immediately, he spread his legs out behind him and dropped down onto Carlos, his arms pushing him to the ground. Before he could wrap him up, Carlos managed to push him away and get clear.

"Good sprawl, Jason," he heard Dheigo say from somewhere behind him. "Good sprawl. That shot was too far away, Carlos."

Both fighters got back to their feet.

Jason wanted to go for a takedown of his own but couldn't get close enough to Carlos. Three times he ate sizeable punches trying to get inside. His other option was to wait for Carlos to close the distance and try to change levels to secure a takedown.

He skirted just out of range and ripped some punches to the body. He faked a shot, stooping for a moment then pulling out. Carlos reacted to the attempt and stepped in swinging. He ducked underneath the blows, catching Carlos off guard, wrapped his arms around his waist and drove forward.

Before Carlos could defend, he grabbed his wrist to secure the hold underneath Carlos's hips. He picked him up and dumped him onto the mat. Quickly, he slid into side control while staying heavy with pressure to keep Carlos down.

Carlos almost slipped out, pushing him away and hip escaping.

He forced him back under control by shouldering his chest. With side control secure he could start looking for submissions. He loved the ground aspect of mixed-martial-arts. Wrestling since he was ten, he had already been given his purple belt in BJJ. Around Angel Grove; however, he was known for his karate. A black belt for over a year, Jason's winning the annual Tri-County karate competition had put Angel Grove on the map and his face on the front page of The Gazette.

First, he had to trap an arm to go for a submission. Ground-and-pound was not allowed in training, so he was limited from some methods of attack. The Americana or Kimura, both joint submissions focusing on the shoulder, were the easiest to get from side control.

Carlos continued to push against him. If he allowed Carlos to create enough space he would lose the position, so he focused on staying in side control. He brought his left knee forward, pinching Carlos's arm and shoulder together. That would keep that arm largely immobile.

He tried to grab his free arm, but it slipped through his sweaty fingers. He snatched at Carlos's wrist.

Suddenly, Carlos exploded away, turning into him and pushing off his hips.

He recovered just in time, forcing Carlos onto his side in an awkward position. Here Carlos made a mistake as he tried to escape and presented his back to him.

Jason eagerly took him around the chest with both arms and rolled onto his own back, pulling Carlos to him. He got both hooks in.

Carlos was already hand fighting as he tried to lock in the rear naked choke. He let Carlos control his left arm before snaking his right arm underneath his chin. He freed his other arm and brought it into position. Grabbing his left bicep with his right hand, he placed his left hand on top of Carlos's head and pushed forward. He squeezed as hard as he could.

He felt Carlos continue to struggle, so he arched his back to intensify pressure on the choke.

A few seconds later Carlos tapped out, and he released his hold.

"Dang it," Carlos said, rolling to his feet. "Nice work."

"Just always turn into me," Jason said. "Don't turn away."

"Yeah," Carlos nodded.

He touched gloves with Carlos again, and they started over. Wary of being taken down, Carlos kept his distance this time. Jason landed several kicks before the buzzer beeped three times to end the round.

He sucked in deep breaths of air. He was exhausted and he had at least one more round left. But pushing through fatigue was just part of it.

Everyone switched partners and began anew.

He matched up with a much weaker opponent for the second round. Jason controlled the match comfortably, getting three takedowns and submitting his new partner twice.

Dheigo finished the class with some fast-paced cardio drills. Afterward, the instructor brought the fighters together for some last words, encouraging all to rest up and eat well before dismissing them.

Jason took off his gloves and gathered his gear. He slung his gym bag over his shoulder, said goodbye to some of the others and headed for the parking lot. He heard someone call his name just as he exited the building. Turning around he saw George, the gym's owner and a professional fighter, walking toward him.

"Jason?"

"Hey, what's up?" he asked.

"I just got off the phone with a promoter," George began. "How much do you weigh right now?"

"Um, probably 160," Jason answered. "Maybe less."

George nodded.

"He needs an amateur to fill out a fight card. Lightweight. Fight's in five weeks. Think you can do it?"

He thought over the exciting news. He'd only fought twice as an amateur and gone 1-1. MMA had been his focus since he was twelve and another amateur fight would be one step closer to reaching his goal of becoming a full-fledged professional. Five weeks to prepare was on the shorter side but not abnormal for his level of competition.

"Who's the opponent? How's his record?"

"He's two-and-oh."

"Where's the fight?" he asked. "The Phoenix?"

"No," George answered. "At the Rivera. It's bigger."

"Yeah, let's do it. Five weeks?"

"Yep."

"I can make that."

George thumped his shoulder.

"Awesome man. I'll let him know."

"Thanks for giving me the chance," he said. "I know there's a lot of guys wanting to fight."

"Hey, you're one of the best here," George said. "Keep getting experience and you've got a bright future."

"Thanks."

"All right, take the weekend off, then we'll start camp Monday."

"Sounds good."

He watched George slip back inside, broad shoulders narrowly fitting inside the door, before turning to leave. He walked to his pickup truck, a faded red Dodge Dakota and tossed his gym bag onto the passenger seat.

He barely noticed the radio as he drove home.

Another fight! Another opportunity to improve, grow as a fighter and hopefully win. He had hoped to fight at least twice during his junior year. Here was one fight, and maybe he could get into the cage again in the spring. A victory would also build some momentum for his career.

He wheeled his truck into the driveway of his house and parked next to his dad's blue F-150.

When he opened the driver's side door he heard something vibrating in the cab. He paused, looked around, but the sound had stopped. He shrugged and went inside.

He greeted his mother, who was in the kitchen preparing dinner. He found his dad in the living room watching the news.

"I got another fight!" he said without preamble.

His dad pressed the remote and snapped the TV off.

"Another fight?"

"Yeah," he said. "Five weeks."

"That's great!" his dad said. "Do you know who you're fighting?"

"He's undefeated. Two wins."

His dad stroked his beard.

"Should be a good test then."

"That's what I was thinking."

"This also means we have to have one last pizza night before you start starving yourself."

He laughed.

"I'm not starving myself," he said. "Just eating clean."

His dad stood up from the couch.

"No, it's definitely starving."

"Whatever," he said and shook his head.

"Well go ahead and get cleaned up. Supper's almost ready, and I've got to take the boat out soon."

Jason headed upstairs where he ran into his younger sister coming out of her bedroom. Her blonde hair was bunched into two pigtails, and she wore a pink shirt and blue shorts.

"Did you win?" she asked.

"I was just training, it's practice," he answered.

"Oh."

"There's not really a winner. How was school?"

"Good. Mrs. Taylor said I could have a birthday party during recess."

"But your birthday isn't until April, silly."

"I know. I wish it was sooner."

"You'll be eleven before you know it."

He dropped his gym bag on his bedroom floor before checking his iPhone. He had two texts, one from his best friend Chris and the other from Lauren, his girlfriend.

 _You want to catch a movie tonight?_

He texted Chris back.

 _Sure. What do you want to see? Haven't seen Suicide Squad yet._

He thumbed over to Lauren's text.

 _There's no way he would admit that._

It was part of a day long conversation.

 _Probably true._

He tossed his phone onto his bed when he heard another vibration.

"Sarah?" he called out his sister's name.

No response. He figured she must have already gone downstairs.

The noise continued. Listening carefully, he waited and cocked his head. He looked at his phone, but it was blank. He realized whatever was making the sound was coming from his bag. He picked up the bag and placed it on his bed.

He unzipped it, and a reddish light filled his room. Inside the bag was a golden coin with a glowing red stone in the center.

"What is this?"

He took the pulsing coin in his hands. He flipped it over and saw it was the same on both sides.

He started to feel warm. His vision greyed slightly at the edges. He tried to back away from the bed but found he could not move or was moving at a snail's pace. The room began to fade, his body pulled in on itself and his breath died in his throat.

Without warning he jolted back to full alertness.

"What the crap?"

He was no longer in his room. He was somewhere dark, cave like. Clean, textured metal floors supported towering walls. His mouth dropped open. In front of him five pedestals circled a collection of swirling, colored light. He had never seen a display so vibrant.

But beyond the pedestals he saw him, or it on the far wall. A huge, disembodied emerald face watching him.

A voice boomed.

"Greetings, Jason Scott."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

For what was probably the thirtieth time, Trini Kwan tugged at her black ponytail while she sat at the end of the substitute bench. Nervous habit she supposed. Her soccer team, the Angel Grove Wildcats, trailed 2-1 with just fifteen minutes left to play. Trini was anxious to get in the game. Her father was here, which didn't happen often with his work schedule. Her mom wouldn't be here of course, she didn't care much for sports or for Trini's playing. And Trini's two younger brothers couldn't be home by themselves.

Trini pushed thoughts of her mother aside. She needed to focus. She hoped to become a regular starter this year, and that meant she would have to play well at the beginning of the season. And if she could start for her club team, then maybe she could make the Angel Grove High School Varsity team in the spring.

Well, if she even made it onto the field.

"Good switch!" Coach Neil Martin yelled from where he stood at the far end of the bench. "Take your space!"

A Wildcats midfielder dribbled the ball down the wing, outran a defender to get clear, and crossed the ball into the penalty box. Several players jumped in the air, and the ball was headed away.

Two girls clashed just outside the box; the ball squirted free to another Wildcat. She settled the ball, waited for a second, then passed square to an open teammate.

Although she had time, the attacker rushed her shot and skied it well over the crossbar of the goal.

Coach Martin spun around and swore at no one in particular. The crowd groaned.

Trini saw one of the girls down on the grass holding her ankle from the earlier challenge.

The referee blew his whistle twice and went over to the injured player. He motioned for Coach Martin to come onto the field.

"Tori doesn't get hurt a lot," the girl, Lindsey, sitting next to Trini said. "She must be injured."

"Yeah," Trini answered. "I think she rolled it."

Fans applauded as Tori got to her feet and was helped off the field by Coach Martin. A couple other substitutes made room for her on the bench, and Trini got her some water.

"Uh, let's see," Coach Martin rubbed the back of his neck as he surveyed the bench.

Trini watched as his eyes settled on her.

"Trini, go in for Tori."

A shiver ran down her spine. Not much time remained in the game, but she couldn't exactly be picky about when she got to play. Four games into the season and this would only be her second appearance, all coming off the bench as a sub.

"Lots of crosses," he said, gesturing with his hands. "Jess needs better service if we're going to score."

"Ok," Trini answered, stooping to pull up her white socks over her shinguards.

"Be strong."

She nodded as she jogged past the linesman and to the center midfield line. Running in place, she pumped her legs up and down then jumped several times. She closed her eyes and sucked her breath in before exhaling slowly. This was her chance.

She opened her eyes with her head down and looked at her bright yellow, her favorite color, Nike Magista Opus II cleats. Her dad had gotten them for her birthday. The Wildcats' uniforms "needed some color" he had said.

That much was true. Plain white tops with black trim and black shorts were not the most exciting thing to wear. The away uniforms were all black, which looked intimidating, but more than once the team had complained about the dark color in the California heat.

The referee waved her on and Trini sprinted across the field to take Tori's place as the left midfielder.

"Don't screw up," Jess said when she ran by.

She tried to ignore the remark but she could already feel frustration building inside her. Jess was the leader, the goal scorer, and made sure everyone else knew it too. Jess and her clique had taken a certain disliking to Trini, but she was determined to prove herself to Jess. She had to believe in herself until others did too.

Jess was also the focal point of Coach Martin's 4-5-1 formation, playing as the lone striker up top. Most goal scoring opportunities would go through her.

Trini waited for the other team to take the goal kick and squinted into the setting sun. The field lights were on but not noticeable at the moment. The goalkeeper booted the ball downfield and play resumed.

When the other team had possession, Trini tucked inside with the other four midfielders to congest the center and keep the Wildcats' defense narrow. On offense; however, Trini spread as wide as she could, all the way to the touchline to stretch the opposing defenders.

A Wildcat defender tackled the ball away to stop an attack. She was first to her feet and passed to Krystin, a central midfielder and captain of the team. Krystin made a turning trap, looked up, and hit a ball to the other side of the field.

Trini ran to keep pace with the play. As the Wildcats got closer to the box she angled toward the goal.

Someone tried to cross, but it was blocked. The Wildcats maintained possession and cycled the ball back to the middle.

Trini checked to her teammate.

"Got me square!" she called.

She took several steps forward to meet the ball when the pass came. Her counterpart on the other team closed her down. She feinted to her right and went left onto her stronger foot. Beating her opponent gave her a yard of space, and although she was thirty yards from goal she fired in a cross.

Jess leaped for it, outmuscling two defenders but nodded her header straight at the keeper.

"Right idea, right idea," Coach Martin said clapping.

The crowd cheered the effort, anticipation rising as the game wore on.

On the next attack, Trini had another cross, but she put too much power on it and missed everyone. Twice the Wildcats played through the middle and twice an opposing defender cut out the final pass.

Trini combined with Krystin and Jess to get the ball in the box where Krystin was pulled down by a defender. The referee firmly waved away appeals for a penalty amidst a shower of boos.

With just a minute or two left of stoppage time, Trini found herself with the ball at midfield. She dribbled twice and surveyed the field in front of her. If she could get around the closest defender, there was a lot of space she could exploit.

As the defender approached she saw a teammate open in the middle. She kicked the ball with the outside of her right foot and sprinted by the defender. Trini's teammate hit a one touch return pass to complete a crisp one-two to spring her clear.

She surged into the open space. A slow rumble built from the crowd, a steady crescendo while Trini raced downfield. She peeked into the middle. Jess was leading the charge to get open. She decided against an early pass.

The fullback closed the distance, trying to force her wide.

Trini stepped over the ball with her right foot in full stride then pushed it forward with her left. The defender bit hard, retreating to cut off the middle and completely fooled.

The crowd reacted wildly to her move, but she was only dimly aware of the noise. She took a touch in the box at speed, and a covering defender forced her wide again toward the byline. She sped past her opponent and managed a last look up.

Jess was covered between two defenders about ten yards from goal, but Krystin was sneaking into space unnoticed at the top of the box.

She had taken a heavy touch, so she slid, stretching as far as she could and cutting the ball back against the grain of the play with her left foot. Another defender lunged for the ball but missed.

She rolled onto her shoulder and watched as Krystin approached her pass. The captain measured her steps before angling her body to the far post and side footing a shot. The ball flew past the keeper and into the side net.

The crowd erupted.

She got to her feet, clinched her fists, and screamed. She'd done it.

Krystin wheeled away in celebration and everyone followed her. Trini was one of the last to join and no one seemed to notice her, but she didn't care. If she kept this up, no one could ignore her for much longer.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Whoa! Whoa!" Jason shouted, raising his hands and dropping into a fighting stance. "Where?" His head spun around. He looked for an exit, but he was completely blocked in. He backed away from the face, hoping to at least keep the danger in front of him.

"What? What is this?" he demanded. "Who are you?"

"I am Zordon," the face spoke in a thunderous voice that resonated with authority.

He watched the green head and tried to control his breathing. This was a joke, or he'd passed out and was having a lucid dream. He tried to remember where he had just been.

His room. The strange coin. As clear as day that came back to him.

Suddenly, the coin was in his right hand, glowing red. Startled, he dropped the object, and it clattered to the metal deck.

"Ok, what is this?" he growled. "What's that?" he asked, pointing to the coin. "Where am I? Who?" he shrugged and motioned toward Zordon.

"That is a Power Coin," Zordon began. "Well, your Power Coin, Jason. And I am Zordon, as I said."

He closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened them again he was disappointed to still be standing in the strange, new place. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the wall behind him was split into panels. He ran to the wall while keeping a watchful eye on the strange apparition.

He placed his hand on one of the panels. It was made of metal and cool to the touch. He grabbed one of the seams in the wall and tried to pull it apart. The wall didn't budge. He grunted, attempting to muscle his way to an exit. Frustrated, he pounded the metal with his fists.

"Dang it! Zordon?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes."

"Right," he sighed. He rubbed his forehead. "Ok, let me go. This can't be real."

"Oh, it's very real," a new, slightly metallic but childish voice said.

He whirled to his right. A shiny, box looking machine—that walked—shuffled from around the corner. A circular, domed head with a band of black where the eyes would be, sat atop a red plated body adorned with gold shoulder guards. A yellow lightning bolt was emblazoned across the chest piece.

He stumbled back, eyes wide in disbelief.

"You're, you're a talking robot!" he stammered.

"Yes, well technically I'm an Alphormic Locate Persona Android," the strange creature said.

"What?"

"But you can call me Alpha Five," it said.

"So, you, uh, did, uh," he struggled to speak. "You, I mean, you're an android?"

"Yes," Alpha-5 answered. "Artificial intelligence."

"Jason," Zordon said. "We have much to teach you, and time is short. Please, step closer."

He stood still with his palms out. "Hold on. Just stop for a second," he said.

Alpha-5 titled its head and waited.

"How do you know who I am?" he asked.

"Because the Power Coin chose you," Zordon answered.

"Chose me for what?"

"To be the Red Ranger and lead the Power Rangers."

He noticed Alpha-5 walking toward the front wall. The little android stopped near the five pedestals.

"Red Ranger? The Power Rangers?" he asked, shifting his eyes back to Zordon.

"Yes," Zordon said. "Come, we can explain all."

Alpha-5 waved for him to approach.

"Come on!" Alpha-5 said excitedly.

After a moment's pause, he cautiously advanced, ready to bolt at any hint of danger. He had thought he was trapped in this room, but when the robot appeared he heard a hiss of a door sliding shut and clanking gears. There had to be an exit.

Centered between the pedestals' pentagon pattern, an orb of light began to shift. When he was a few feet away, shapes formed from the light, emerging like a hologram. A group of humanoid figures stood before him, all clad in different colored armor.

"Wow," he whispered.

"This was my team," Zordon said. "The Power Rangers. Guardians of the Zeo Crystals and sworn to protect all life in the universe."

Explosions appeared around the holographic Power Rangers. The team sprang into action, kicking and punching unseen foes.

"We fought many battles across many worlds," Zordon continued. "Our greatest foe, Rita Repulsa, opposed us for thousands of years."

Alpha-5 shuddered at the mention of the name and clutched its head.

"Rita, Ai-yi-yi!" it exclaimed.

"Rita?" he asked, relaxing slightly.

"Yes. She is a great evil. A witch with unbelievable power," Zordon explained.

He rolled his eyes, laughing, his apprehension fading.

"A witch? Like a scary lady with a broom. Wizard of Oz stuff," he scoffed.

"No, Jason. She is real. And Earth is in grave danger because of her."

"Yeah, ok. Um, this has been nice," Jason started, "but I want to leave. So, put me back, or let me out, however you got me in here."

"But we're just getting started!" Alpha-5 exclaimed. "So much to do so little—"

"Stop!" he shouted. "I don't know who is behind this, or what you want, but this has been a great joke, all right?"

Zordon and Alpha-5 both looked perplexed.

"Very cool graphics," he pointed to Zordon. "And, uh, nice hologram, here," he nodded at the miniature Power Rangers. He half smiled as he looked at Alpha-5. "Don't know how you managed that."

"Jason—" Zordan began.

"Is it Chris?" he interrupted. "We were just texting." He waited. "Nothing? Michael?" he guessed another friend of his. "I mean he's pretty techy." He shook his head and turned away, walking toward the back of the room where he assumed there was an exit.

"Where are we again?"

"This is my ship," Zordon replied.

"Your spaceship?" he asked.

"Yes, as you would call it."

"But of course," he said over his shoulder. "Your spaceship." He stopped, then spun on his heel to face Zordon again.

"Power Ragers? Neo Crystals?"

"Zeo Crystals," Zordon corrected.

"Whatever. And this Rita, space witch woman. Totally believable."

He saw Alpha-5's head drop in disappointment. Zordon remained silent.

"So, can I go? How do I even get out of here?"

"Alpha Five, he needs to morph," commanded Zordon.

"Ah, yes, master, the morphing grid!" Alpha-5 nodded enthusiastically. "Jason, stand here," it pointed to one of the pedestals, which glowed with soft white light.

"If I morph," Jason made air quotes with his hands, "will you let me go?"

"Yes," Zordon said.

He ran his hand through his hair and strode to where Alpha-5 indicated. He stepped onto the short ramp that bridged the gap between the deck and pedestal.

"Ok, here goes."

The moment he placed his feet on the circle of light he felt energy course through him. His arms broke out with goosebumps, and his fingers tingled. He watched the hologram in front of him grow into a mix of different colors. Red, blue, yellow, black, and pink.

"What, what is?" he never finished his question as a new sensation gripped his body.

"It's working, Zordon!" Alpha-5 gushed but Jason didn't hear him.

His skin turned red, then he realized that armor plates, just like the hologram he had seen, were forming around his body. Steadily like an ocean wave, the armor spread over him. With mouth hanging open, he looked down while an angular chest piece materialized, followed by plating over his abs, then his thighs and all the way down to his feet in armored boots until his entire body was encased.

Lastly, a helmet sealed his head.

Jason quickly realized the armor wasn't the only difference. His hearing seemed amplified, his muscles bursting with strength he shouldn't have had after MMA training, his eyesight pierced the darkest shadows in the room.

He stumbled off the pedestal and looked at Zordon.

"What . . . I, uh, I . . . don't understand," he managed to say.

"He morphed, he morphed!" Alpha-5 said, jumping up and down.

"How did you . . . how did this happen?" Jason asked. He moved his arms carefully and studied his armor, slowly fingering the plates.

"The Morphing Grid," Zordon spoke. "Through it, all Power Rangers first obtain their armor. Your Power Coin is connected to the Morphing Grid as well."

Alpha-5 tugged at his arm, and he saw that he had retrieved his coin from where he dropped it on the floor. He took it from Alpha-5, held the coin in his hand, and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger.

"Whenever there is danger, you can simply use the Power Coin to morph into your armor," Zordon said.

"Ok," he answered, still in disbelief.

"We've waited so long!" Alpha-5 said. "It's so good to see a Ranger again!"

"There is still much to do," Zordon said. "But I can see this is a lot for you to take in, and you still have your doubts."

"Yeah, no kidding."

"I will send you back now. Think about what you have seen, and we will meet again soon," Zordon said.

The armor slowly evaporated from his body.

Shocked, Jason was still examining himself when the room started to fade again.

"May the power protect you!" Zordon said.

"Wait!" he shouted.

Something vibrated near him. It was his phone.

He was back in his room.

Breathing hard, He looked at the back of his hands. His phone vibrated again. He shook his head, then pressed his hands against his forehead and tried to slow his heartrate.

That was crazy. Insane. Real or not real? Now that he was in his room again, the whole ordeal with Zordon, Alpha-5, and the Morphing Grid seemed so distant, like waking up from a vivid dream.

"Jason?" his dad said, sticking his head around door. "Jason? Why haven't you taken a shower yet?"

"What? Uh . . . I," he stammered.

"What have you been up to? Supper's ready."

"Oh, yeah," he faced his dad and tried to wear a normal expression. "I'll be down in a minute."

"You ok?"

"Um, yeah, just texting Lauren."

His dad nodded slowly.

He shrugged. "You know, girls, so confusing."

"Right," his dad replied before leaving.

Jason slumped onto his bed. He tugged at the sheets, pushed down on the mattress, and slid his feet through the carpet. All solid and definitely real. His Karate trophies still lined his shelves, and his textbooks he'd dumped on his desk after school were still in the same pile.

"What in the world?" he muttered quietly.

He reached for his phone.

 _Nah bro that movie sucks_.

The text from Chris was several minutes old. He scrolled up to see what they had been texting about.

 _Really? The trailer looked good_. He typed before pressing send.

Seconds later Chris responded.

 _Yeah that's the best part of the entire movie. Typical DC_.

His friend certainly didn't seem aware of any joke or larger conspiracy.

"What is going on?" he asked when he saw the Power Coin sitting on the bed next to him.

The cold water from the shower cleared his head a bit, and he felt more like himself when he went downstairs to join his family for dinner. He pulled a chair out and sat across from Sarah, his sister, who was in the middle of a story.

"But Mrs. Taylor made him sit out during recess," Sarah said. "So, Emily and I got to swing the entire time."

"Well, that's good," his mom said. "Can you tell Jason about your English test?"

Jason concentrated on eating. His mom had made chicken and rice, which normally he would have scarfed down, but he had little appetite as he struggled to process everything that had happened.

That armor had been real. He had never felt anything like that before. What did Zordon call it? Morphing? He couldn't have dreamed that, right? The energy, the awareness, the power was undeniable.

And what of Rita? She had been an afterthought. But if that armor was real, then Zordon, whoever he was, must have been telling the truth, and Earth was in danger.

Earth in danger?

He shook his head at the ridiculous notion.

"Jason?"

He looked up, startled.

"Yes?"

His mom glared at him.

"Listen to Sarah," she chided.

He gave his sister an embarrassed smile, but she continued without disappointment.

"Anyway, I remembered what you said, Jason," she said. "That direct objects always come after indirect objects."

He nodded.

"Good. And what type of verbs do direct objects follow?" he asked.

"Action verbs!"

"Yes, you must have done well!" he said.

She scrunched her face for a moment.

"Well, we didn't grade the tests yet. But I think I did good."

His father asked Sarah something, but he didn't hear him, his mind still dwelling on the red armor.

Were the Power Rangers superheroes? Zordon said he had a team, so what happened to them? Where did they come from? Jason thought hard and shoved a forkful of rice into his mouth. Was Zordon an alien? Aliens couldn't be real. Then again, how did he get to Zordon's ship? Teleporting? That was straight science fiction.

"Your biology assignment?"

But he had to have gone somewhere. He felt it.

"Jason?" his father asked. "Are you there? You seem distracted."

"Um, yeah," he tried to buy some time. "Just thinking about training. Hard session."

He tepidly ate another mouthful of food.

"Your assignment?" his dad asked.

"Assignment? For, um . . . bio two?" he clarified.

"Yes," his father said, not amused.

He swallowed.

"Just a quiz," he said, cutting into a piece of chicken with his knife. "Over chordates and fish. Had to label their parts. Pretty straightforward."

"What's a chordate?" Sarah asked.

"It's uh, well, I guess . . . I don't really know," his parents laughed along with him. "Kind of like an eel maybe. But I can label it."

"That's gross!" Sarah said, wrinkling her nose.

"Most high schoolers are gross," his dad joked. "Especially boys."

"Sam," his mom mock scolded his dad. "Stop."

He laughed when his dad leaned over and whispered to Sarah, "Stay away from boys."

"Says the man who dated me in high school," his mom said.

"We don't count," his father answered. "Besides, I'm not gross."

Sarah giggled, and he grinned as his mother shook her head.

To emphasize that he wasn't gross, his dad began telling a really disgusting story about fishing. Jason listened for a bit but soon was drawn back to his strange encounter. When everyone else had finished he still had half a plate of food. He put the plate in the refrigerator and told his mom he would finish it later before going back to his room.

Once upstairs he checked his phone again.

 _That new Star Trek movie is still out_ , Chris had texted.

That was it, he thought. He needed to talk to someone, just spill it out.

 _Yeah, Chris Pine is awesome. Let's go. What time?_ he replied.

 _Showing at eight thirty_. _I can drive_.

 _Deal_.

 _Be at your house in ten_.

 _Sounds good_.

He picked up the Power Coin, which still pulsed red, from his bed. He stared at it, willing the coin to give up its secrets.

He slowly nodded to himself.

He would figure this out.


End file.
